The Crux of Being Me
by RadioPages
Summary: Bella Swan is a woman who has a phobia about attractive men.  To her dismay, friends buy her time with a male escort, Anthony Masen, to help ease her into the world of the unknown, seducing the unattainable. Can Anthony create a believable vixen?


"Honey, you look green." Rose looked at me with concern. She should.

I was going to be sick. Sick all over this tablecloth that held the remains of our lunch, which was threatening to show itself again. That's all I could think about after the girls told me about their plan for the big change up in my life. The lunch I had just consumed was going to decorate this pretty white tablecloth. And it would be their fault.

The strategy was to get me to be more open with men. To be able to socialize on a fundamental level where I didn't have the urge to flee from them like from a burning building. I wasn't that bad was I? I mean I know that I've had problems but to take it to this level? Hire a stranger to do with me God knows what? Do I have that look of desperation on my face? Please love me. Give me a break.

I have had sex before. This month to be ... lying. Okay, so I haven't been acquainted with the male body in quite some time, but that was no call to do what they did. I wasn't the first girl a guy picked to go out with, and I was okay with that. I wasn't a charity case. When I wanted to try to flirt or make myself available I would. The problem was, to them, I never did.

The girls were looking at me with expectant expressions on their faces. They were excited at the thought of their new plan for me. They had taken it upon themselves to find me a tutor. A _male_ tutor. A man who was well trained in the art of seduction and romance. A man who was going to help me find my inner goddess so I can use my new wiles on some poor unsuspecting victim. The poor bastard. Rose and Alice had bought me a man. For six weeks.

Six sickening weeks worth of notes and demonstrations to be performed on him, by me. I was more likely to grow a pig's tail out my ass than become some poor imitation of Angelina Jolie. I couldn't do it. I was nauseated just thinking about it. Obviously.

Both of their eyes were glued to my face, waiting for my response. What were they expecting? Fucking joy? For me to jump up on the table and dance in glee? They wanted a response, I'll give them a response.

"You both are fucking crazy," I vehemently whisper across the table. "You can't be serious!"

When all I got back was narrowed eyes, I swallowed nervously. I could handle one irritated friend on my own, but two ...

"No," I shake my head, "Not just no, but hell no!"

Rose, the collected one, finally takes her eyes away from me and studies her nails. Not that she needed to, she was perfect. They both were. They had guys throwing themselves at their feet all the time. Rose, with her statuesque body and perfect legs. Alice, with her delicate pretty features and tiny physique. They never had problems with getting a date, and they never had problems sharing about how they got laid and with whom.

How the three of us became friends I'll never know. Goddamn dorm assignments. I could have been an happy, oblivious being, walking the earth, drama free, if they hadn't lived across the hall from me. I wouldn't be sitting at this table and having this absurd conversation, right now, four years later.

"Calm down, Bella," Rose said. "This is for your own good."

Rose and Alice share and look and nod their heads decisively. Like they had just closed an important business deal. In a way, I guess they had. Bitches.

"How is this for my own good? I told you guys something I had no intention of following through with!" I have to lower my voice so the other diners won't hear this ridiculous conversation. They were going to think I was crazy. I chew on my left thumb nail. "And I was drunk!"

I'm never drinking again, I swear to Christ.

I always talked a good game, but I never, ever, follow through with anything of this nature. I don't pick up guys. Period. I just envisioned my alternate lifestyle. Like a "what if" reel. It was my thing. I daydreamed about the places I would go, the things I would do. I never did them. Money wasn't the only reason that these dreams were unattainable. I was a coward.

I couldn't bring myself to take that first step. The crucial first step to freedom, to destiny. I was too scared of change. Change meant tumbling down a cliff without a safety net. Change was dangerous. I was never out of my element if I knew what was going to happen. The first sign of trouble and I was out of there.

At their seemingly innocent gazes, I let out a sigh and lean back into my chair. They were serious. They were serious about my drunkin' rambling of a week ago. We had met at Rose's place and had gotten drunk off our asses. We talked about the thing we... they always talk about. Sex.

I was tired of never having anything to add to the girl talk, my stupid inebriated self had blurted out, and that I was sick of being alone and wanted cock. I then continued my rambling by saying that the man I would have fantastic sex with would be the first thing we would talk about at our fun night. I would have something to actually talk about without sitting there, every Friday night, like a kindergardener at story time. I never did anything about it and it was over!

This is what I was _told_ I had said. I have no recollection. I would not use the word cock. I don't think. I know in a sober state I wouldn't dare say it. Cock. I blush every damn time I think about it. I still think they were exaggerating. That night was only remembered in bits and pieces.

I just didn't exude sex like my friends here. They didn't do anything overt like show too much cleavage or wear anything that would remind someone of a streetwalker. They just ...were.

Rose and Alice were stunning in the looks department and I was ... not. I'm fine with that. Everyone can't be beautiful, right? I had brown eyes, brown hair, and a black wardrobe. I defended my black because it made my hips looks smaller. I was what you would call... plump. Not obese, but I was not a size six either. I'm okay with that. It's just that men aren't okay with that or, at least, the men I have barely come into contact with. So I just go about my business and listen to everyone else have the life I just dream about. I can be happy with myself and not have a man to make me feel validated.

They, however, took my complacence as giving up and burying my head in the sand. I didn't have what people would call an interesting sex life. I barely had one. They were going to fix that by buying me time with a man tutor.

"We know, girl, that's why we followed through for you." Alice placed a business card in front of me. I stared down, stupidly, at the cream colored square. Maybe it would just disappear if I stared long enough.

"Tell me you didn't do this," I close my eyes and pray that they are making this up. An April fool's joke, ya know? Gotcha! And we would all have a good laugh. Right? When I opened my eyes again, their looks were now what I can only call determined. "Tell me you didn't hire a guy to... to... do that." I gesture with my hands to get my point across.

"Bella, you said you wanted to try this. Learn how to be sensual and attract men." Alice continued. "This will be the first step. You can't run from attractive men forever."

Merlot was off the list of drinks for girl's night and the hell I couldn't. I didn't have the confidence for it. I'm no pushover, but I can't deal with embarrassment. If I know I'm going to fail at meeting men, why do it?

On that drunken night, I had stupidly expressed my feelings to be sensual vibrate woman, who wasn't letting fear with the opposite sex in the intimacy department stop me. Just once, I wanted to be free of the anxiety and terror that gripped me when a man approached me for any reason.

Men terrified me. Well, okay, attractive men terrified me. Men who could stop traffic and command a room made me sweat and try to blend into the wallpaper. I try to make myself as small as possible. I couldn't think around them, talk around them or, heaven forbid, actually get close enough to have sex with one of them. Gorgeous men were just for the other women out there. I would take plain and comfortable any day.

It's stupid, I know, but dammit, I had always been this way. As far back as I could remember, I was a total moron around cute guys. Kyle Manning in high school, James Avery in college, and now my next door neighbor Emmett McCarty to name a few. Emmett's dimples alone make me want to run for cover.

There are not too many people who know this about me, and I want to keep it that way. We don't have to talk about it. It's just there. Move on.

"You told us that night that you wanted to learn to be a sex kitten and bang that luscious next door neighbor of yours," Rose said with a devilish smile. "Well, honey," she tapped the card with an elegantly manicured finger, "here's your chance."

Me and my big fucking drunk mouth.

"Come on, Bella!" Alice was grinning from ear to ear. "Just imagine the power you will feel, among other things, if you let your inhibitions go for once."

I was afraid to let those inhibitions go. I didn't want to be hurt and humiliated. I knew what I was and I had no qualms about it. It was safe. Comfortable. Like a my favorite pair of shoes or my bed. Secure in the fact that I would not embarrass myself anymore around men, I just stayed away from them. Easy.

"He will be at your place Friday," Rose continued flippantly, like she was reading the menu. "Expect him at eight p.m.. Wear something nice." She then proceeds to ignore me as if I have nothing else to say.

"What?" I could feel a panic attack coming on. "What? No!"

I was getting light headed. Maybe I could pass out and this would be just a bad dream. Alice looked at me with sympathetic eyes. She, out of the two, knew how serious a phobia this was for me. I had told her when we were in college how it got so bad at one point that I didn't even sit next to guys in the lecture rooms. I was pathetic. In a way, I still am. I don't know where being hesitant with men came from. I didn't have a bad experience with any of the males in my life. Directly or indirectly.

I picked up the card and studied the name printed in elegant script. Anthony Masen. Image consultant. I scoffed. Image consultant my ass. Who turned to people for this shit? Oh yeah, right. Me.

"He sounds like a prostitute," I said. "I'm not having some stranger in my home waiting to _consult_ me." I take a cool sip of water from my glass, anything to take my eyes off that damn card.

"He is not a prostitute, Bella. He's an escort." Rose leaned forward eagerly. "He comes to your home and gives you what you need."

"I'm not having sex with him, Rose." I quickly interject. I chew my thumb nail again.

"Then don't have sex with him, Bella." Alice rolls her eyes at me like I'm a petulant child. Only she could make me feel silly over something that, to her, wasn't a big deal. In a way that was comforting, and in other ways it was not.

"He gives you whatever you need, even if it's only his company. Lots of women do this, girl. The men are hired to be dates at functions or just keep you company." Alice adds slyly, "Or they fuck your brains out as needed. Like a prescription. You are not the only one who needs to be la-"

"Helped. You are not the only one who needs to be helped." Rose cuts off Alice and gives her a stern look. "You are not helping here, Al."

Rose reaches over the table to give my hand a reassuring squeeze. "Honey, you don't have to do what you don't want to do, but we care about you. We want you to be happy. We wouldn't have gone this far if you hadn't been so broken up about not having normal relationships. We just want to help," she says sincerely.

God, I was a loser. Other women have pity fucks and, lucky me, I get to have a pity consultant. New low, even for me, but they did have a point. I watched all the girls around me have normal experiences with the guys they meet all the time. I just stand by on the sidelines. I was the towel boy while the others were the first string.

The hook ups, the first date, the relationship, and finally the sex. I wanted those things. I was just too weak to find them on my own. Hell, I would even take the heartaches that came along with it. Maybe I did need something like this to take that first step. I just needed the guts to do it.

"I agree," Alice states with a serious face. "We all deserve to have our heads banged against a headboard every now and then."

I let out a skittish laugh. Alice's face splits into a grin and Rose laughs outright, causing a few men to turn their heads in her direction. I wanted that to be me.

We pay and leave the restaurant. After goodbyes and I'll call you laters, I hopped in a cab for home with the man's card tucked into my purse.

Friday. Oh, God.

~X~

I'm staring at myself in the mirror in my bathroom and the sick feeling returns. I'm not a fashionista like Rose, but I think I look all right. I think. I'm a little paler than usual due to the fact that a perfect stranger is about to knock on my door and proceed to rock my world. I'm not having sex. I don't care how much Alice and Rose paid for the guy, I'm not going there.

I sigh and study my reflection. I've strayed from my dependable black and actually bought a new shirt that was a deep purple hue. I was amazed at the way the color brought out the natural tones in my skin. Not that I really cared. I just want to have some semblance of different. I strayed from the ponytail I usually wear and left my hair down. The weight of it alone will give me headache by the end of the night, but I was attached to it. It was a security blanket, of sorts, so I never have anything done with it other than the occasional trim.

I chose a slim black skirt and ballet flats to finish off the outfit. It wouldn't work for the runways of Paris, but it will work for me. I felt I looked the best I was going to look. I'm okay with that. I think.

After another three days of badgering, I finally agreed to the meeting with Anthony Masen. If nothing else, to shut them the fuck up. I wasn't enthusiastic about someone I didn't know in my apartment with me alone, but Rose said that she would be across the hall of the apartment building we shared. That was the clincher for me. She was a hop, skip, and a shout away if things turned ugly.

Rose had delivered the picture of Anthony Masen earlier this week. She thought that maybe if I spent time looking at his face that he wouldn't seem so intimidating when he arrived at my doorstep. I took one look at his picture and almost passed the fuck out. No way was I going to get through the first day, let alone the six weeks the girls had set up. Holy shit.

He was gorgeous. I'm not talking about Hollywood gorgeous, I'm talking about Greek god gorgeous. He had the most perfect bone structure I have ever seen. Each feature flawlessly put together to bring about a visage that was written about only in poetry. Full lips and broad forehead capped off these points topped off by my weakness. His hair. I felt a shiver run through me when I thought about his hair. That was the one thing I could concentrate on when I was too scared to look into a guy's eyes. I focused on his hair.

I guess it turned into a fetish of some sort because the thicker and darker the hair, the more my libido came a'knockin' and I had to take care of myself. Another tidbit about me that will never see the light of day. I would die if anyone knew that. Not even Rose and Alice knew about my thing for hair.

Anthony Masen's hair had kept me in high spirits all week. It was thick, dark and had an unkempt look about it. As if he just rolled out of bed. Or had someone run their fingers through it for him. On some guys, I suppose, this would just look like they never combed their hair but on him...it just screamed seduction.

This was what I needed, right? To be in charge of my sexual prowess. With hair like that, I had no doubt that the man knew what he was doing. I hope. Rose said that he was the most popular male at the company. Whatever that means. Popular to have sex with? Even I wouldn't judge someone for that anymore.

I hear a knock on the door and it makes me jump. I press my hand against my ample chest and try to breathe normally. _Oh, God, he's here! _ I swallow hard and smooth my, now, sweaty hands against the sides of my skirt.

I can do this.

I can do this.

My knees are knocking together while I walk towards the door and I feel like my stomach is going to take a turn for the worse. I grab the door knob with one hand and furiously chew on my left thumb nail on the other.

He was right on the other side of this door. Mere inches from where I was standing. If he looks anything like his picture, I was in for a long night. And not the good kind.

What if he takes one look at me and leaves? I feel the room start to spin and I can't catch my breath. I would be humiliated. I wouldn't be able to leave my house in fear that everyone would know what had happened.

I can't do this. I'm shaking now.

I just won't answer the door and he'll eventually go away. I can change into my comfy pajamas and piggy house shoes, watch reruns of Will and Grace, and eat that gallon of Rocky Road in the freezer. That sounds really good right now.

A knock sounds again and I'm just standing there.

I can't even answer the fucking door like a human being. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I swallow and my throat feels like a fucking desert. I can feel my eyes tearing up. This is so stupid! I'm tired of being this way. Tired of being afraid to do something that everyone on the fucking planet can do easily. Tired of being left behind. The only way I could take a step in the right direction is to open the door.

Interact with the opposite sex. That's all I have to do tonight. Just talk to the man. The extremely attractive, slap your mama, sexy man. The hot man whose hair I want to feel and run my fingers through.

I take a determined breath and open the door.

Here goes nothing, fuckers.


End file.
